Sunday, March 21, 2010

Insomniac

The night is only a sort of carbon paper,Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of starsLetting in the light, peephole after peephole ---A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictusHe suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessnessStretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movieExposes embarrassments--the mizzling daysOf childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue ---How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!Those sugary planets whose influence won for himA life baptized in no-life for a while,And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.Each gesture flees immediately down an alleyOf diminishing perspectives, and its significanceDrains like water out the hole at the far end.He lives without privacy in a lidless room,The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-openOn the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible catsHave been howling like women, or damaged instruments.Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

I haven't watched this movie since I was a child and it stands up to be the most wonderful technicolour, layered film.

My favourite quote:

Scarecrow: I haven't got a brain... only straw.Dorothy: How can you talk if you haven't got a brain?Scarecrow: I don't know... But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking... don't they?Dorothy: Yes, I guess you're right.

I don't know who I like best out of the tinman, lion and scarecrow. Probably the lion...if I only had a heart.

Here I am

I believe people can change.
I love hope.
I think books/music/art can save your life.
I am learning how to be patient.
My favourite colour is green.
I think the world is ugly enough so you should fill it with colour.
I don't watch the news anymore.
I want to go to Cuba and be a communist.
I like to see beauty in both darkness and light.
Wayne Coyne is my spiritual advisor.
I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.